I watched her die. Though there really wasn’t much of anything to see.
She came in, in front of me. Chattering away. Walking perfectly fine. No distress. No outward signs.
Half a minute later, thirty little seconds, she fell. Foaming. Unresponsive.
It seemed like forever until the paramedics arrived. Seven minutes after she’d come in from the porch. Seven. Five minutes from the time I’d called them. They assured us that she was gone by the time she hit the floor, that there was nothing anyone could have done for her.
Chatting one moment. Dead the next. Literally. Slipping quietly into whatever follows. Without anyone to say goodbye. I would have, had I known. I would have told her she was a joy, that she’ll be missed. But it was too late. She was gone…